


Give Me Some Sugar

by Selador



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Birthday, Birthday Presents, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Everybody Loves Prompto, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Gift Fic, Gift Giving, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, and it isn't, and it's not, it's mostly fluffy but with a side of angst, meant to be a short fill, meant to be super fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-29 19:28:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13933737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selador/pseuds/Selador
Summary: Prompto gives each of his friends thoughtful birthday gifts. They return the favor, while grappling with their feelings.





	Give Me Some Sugar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rch88](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rch88/gifts).



> A gift for [RachelHuey88](www.rachelhuey88.tumblr.com), who's a gift herself to this fandom <3 I hope you enjoy Rachel!
> 
> the full prompt: "prompto has 4 envelopes in his drawer, with mom and dad, noct, ignis, and gladio written on each  
> in which he deposits cash from his part time job occasionally so he has money to spend on gifts for their birthdays or on special occasions  
> even though this was when ignis and gladio are still a little wary of him"

“Oh, hey, Iggy—wait a sec,” the Prince’s friend says, when Ignis dutifully drops him off at home after his study session with Noctis.

“Of course,” Ignis says, waiting while Prompto rifles around his bag for a couple of minutes.

“Here we go!” Prompto says, pulling out—a book. “Happy birthday, Iggy!”

Ignis blinks, but _ah, Noctis must have told him._ He doesn’t reach out to accept the gift. “Thank you. You didn’t have to get me a gift, though.”

Prompto blinks at him. “But it’s your birthday.”

“Yes, but—” _we’re not friends_ is not the appropriate thing to say. _I’m not sure you’ll be in Noctis’ life long enough to merit gift giving_ would be even worse. “Thank you,” he says, taking the gift.

He looks down at the cover, and is surprised enough to say, “A recipe book?”

“Yeah! You cook so much, I thought—I found a book that has Niflheim recipes in Lucian, and I thought, ‘Iggy might like this’!” Prompto says, eyes flicking between Ignis’ face and the book. “If you don’t like it, I can give you the receipt—”

“No, no. It’s lovely. Very thoughtful.” Much more thoughtful than Ignis would have expected. Not something he would have expected of the Prince’s friend.

Prompto beams, smiles, wishes him happy birthday again, and dashes out of the car into his home.

Ignis sits in the car for a moment to flip through the book, and the receipt falls out.

Curious, he picks it up to see how much Prompto spent on this gift.

He blinks. It’s not _expensive_ , not really, but it’s not really something he would think Prompto could afford on a whim. At least given Noctis’ complaints about how he can’t hang out with Prompto when he’s at work...

He slips the receipt into the book and puts it aside. Perhaps his parents helped him. Either way, it’s a nice gesture.

…

“Um, Gladio,” Prompto says, bouncing on his heels, like he hadn’t just sprinted the last couple blocks in a race against Gladio and won. He runs every morning, he told Gladio, even now that he’s attending art school, but Gladio wasn’t quite expecting a civilian’s running routine to be so diligent. “Come in for a sec? I have a birthday gift for you.”

“Oh!” Gladio says, “Well, that’s nice of you. My birthday was last week though.”

“Yeah, I know, your gift wasn’t ready yet, it took me longer than I thought it would,” Prompto says. “Which, I should have known, and given myself for time for it, it was totally my fault, but Noct only _told_ me like a couple of months ago, so—”

“Relax, kid,” Gladio says, feeling a little dizzy at the barrage. “It’s fine. It’s really sweet that you got me a gift at all.”

Prompto smiles, nervously, and darts into his house, leaving Gladio to follow more slowly. He hears Prompto thud up some stairs, a moment of silence, and thud back down again.

“Here!” he says, shoving a parcel into Gladio’s hands. “I hope you like it—I’m not sure if it’s very good, but I did my best!”

Curiosity getting the better of him, Gladio opens the gift—it’s light and soft and feels like fabric, but it seems odd that Prompto would get him _clothes_.

Unless, Gladio realizes, some eagerness he didn’t realize he had built fading, Noctis put Prompto up into buying him a shirt, as a joke?

He’s prepared for that as he tears off the wrapping, prepared to be nice about it anyway, but as the paper falls away, he’s left with a soft, dark blue, yukata.

Blinking at it, he holds it up so it unfurls, and Gladio sees the embroidered crest on the back of several gladiolus flowers.

It’s pretty, but a little lopsided. Gladio asks, “Did you make this yourself?”

“Yeah, I know it’s not very good, but I ran out of time,” Prompto says, “I took a sewing class a while ago, mostly to make repairs, but I was good at it, and the teacher offered to show me embroidery, and this was my first time putting it into practice.” He laughs nervously. “Definitely shows, doesn’t it?”

“This is really good, Prompto,” Gladio says, meaning it. Just eyeballing it, the yukata looks to be like his size, too. He must have tailored it—standard shops don’t sell his size. (And Gladio might enjoy form-fitting clothes. He knows what he’s about.)

“And you’ve said that in that book you’re reading, the characters wear more traditional clothing, with symbols that are important to them, and um, I just thought, I could do some flowers that…”

“Yeah, Prom, I recognize my own namesake. You paid attention to when I was talking about my book?” Gladio talked about that when he had to make small talk with the kid while he was waiting for Noctis. He didn’t think he’d been listening.

Prompto stares at him. “Uh, yeah, dude. Of course.”

Gladio feels a smile creep up on his face. “Thanks, Prompto. This is really nice.”

Prompto smiles. “So you like it?”

“I love it,” he says, “it’s great. You realize, though, that you need to make yourself one, too, right?”

His smile fades as he stares at him quizzically.

“Come on, Prom. You can’t give me the perfect outfit for a convention and _not_ expect that I’ll drag you with me to them,” Gladio explains, and the kid smiles like the Six damned sun.

“I can do that!” He’s bouncing on his heels again, this time from excitement. “I could make one with—a chocobo! Oh, a chocobo would be the best!”

…

Noctis tilts in Prompto’s chair, as he waits for him to finish cleaning up some dishes in the kitchen.

He doesn’t mean to look through Prompto’s things, really. He’s mostly just relaxing in the chair with his eyes closed.

But as he’s looking around the room, taking in more detail than he would otherwise, his own name catches his eye, and Noctis reaches out to grab the envelope without really thinking it through.

A letter for him? Why would Prompto write him a letter? They have _phones_.

When Prompto comes back, he asks, “Hey, what’s with this letter?”

“Oh!” Prompto says, reaching out to take it away from him. Noctis lets it go without a fuss, realizing that maybe, he shouldn’t have grabbed it in the first place. “Oh, uh. It’s no big deal. It’s where I put some cash aside to save up for when your birthday comes around.”

“What?” Noctis says, thinking back to his last birthday, when Prompto got him a fish tackle he hadn’t found before. “Wait, is this why you work a part-time job?”

“Eh…” Prompto says, fidgeting where he stands. “I mean, between my scholarship and my parents, I’m… mostly okay? But I do need a job to make ends meet, yeah. I can afford it!” Prompto reassures, though Noctis isn’t that sure about that. Prompto works odd, seemingly random hours as a personal assistant to a photographer.

Prompto _did_ find his own apartment to move into recently, and it’s pretty nice, so he can’t be doing that badly. Right?

“I make enough with my job that I just put away a bit each paycheck so I can get my friends nice things for their birthdays!” and Prompto smiles, widely, and Noctis finds himself smiling back, even while he clears his throat.

“You don’t have to do that, Prom,” he says, “I don’t need you to get me gifts. I’m happy enough just having you as a friend and spending time with you.”

“No, Noctis, I like to do it,” Prompto says.

“Really,” Noctis insists, “if it’s making things harder, you really don’t have to—”

“Noctis, it’s _fine,_ ” Prompto says firmly.

Quietly, Noctis resolves to make sure he ‘accidentally’ pays for as many of Prompto’s meals as he can.

When his birthday does come around that year, Prompto gives him… a rather hideous, obnoxious, talking fish. Noctis tries not to make a face while he gives his thanks, but Prompto bursts out laughing before he can finish.

“Oh, you should have seen your face! I should have taken a picture! Probably would have given the game away though,” Prompto muses. “Don’t worry, buddy, that’s just a joke gift! Your real gift is an _experience!_ Come with me!”

Prompto takes his hand and pulls him into his room. Noctis gets caught up in _experience_ and _Prompto’s bedroom_ , when Prompto shoves clothes at him. And not the clothes his wearing.

“Go put these on. It’s a _disguise_ ,” Prompto says. “Today, instead of Prince Noctis, you’re going to be unnoteworthy civilian, Noct Gar, who is the son of a fisherman, visiting Insomnia while his father sells his fishy wares!”

“Noct… Gar…” Noctis repeats, as he looks at the clothes Prompto shoved at him. They all look his size, surprisingly, and while not the most stylish or pretty, look like they’ll cover him up from suspecting eyes fairly well.

He looks up, and Prompto’s changing himself into his own disguise. “What, man, everyone knows we’re friends, if they see me they’ll assume it’s you with me.”

“So we’re both going incognito?” Noct Gar asks with a smile.

“Yup! This’ll be great! Finally, Noct, you can experience the world as a pleeb.”

Prompto smiles wide, looking ridiculous in his disguise, which is is a mismatch of colors and patterns and a truly awful hat, but Noctis smiles back.

It only occurs to him with a guilty twist to his gut much later, after they’ve exhausted themselves running around Insomnia with a freedom Noctis has never known before, that the money in the envelope went to his outfit for today.

…

When Ignis stops by Gladio’s residence, he sees him dressed in a nice, but informal, royal blue yukata.

With… hand-sewn gladioli on it.

Ignis stares, but says honestly, “What a lovely yukata, Gladio.” The stitches are not as neat as they could be, the appeal in the character and uniqueness of a flaw is not minor.

Gladio grins. “Isn’t it? Can you believe that Prompto made it?”

“ _Prompto_ made it?” Ignis repeats.

“Yup! Made himself one too. We’re heading out to the historical fiction convention.”

“Oh,” Ignis says, “I see. I wasn’t aware Prompto knew how to sew.” Or that he was interested in historical fiction.

“Yeah,” Gladio says. “Sweet kid.”

“He gave me a cookbook with recipes from Niflheim,” Ignis comments. “For my birthday.”

“Yeah? You tried making any?”

“I have not,” Ignis says. “I suppose I shall. Perhaps next time Prompto comes over to Noct’s apartment.”

“Heh, that’ll probably be tonight then.”

Ignis watches as Gladio pulls at the front of his yukata, and smooths down his hair. “Perhaps you and Prompto should go out to dinner after the convention? Surely, it’ll be easier to coordinate.”

“Yeah, that might be better,” Gladio says, “I’m not sure how long we’re going to stay. There’s some panels I want to go to, and a re-enactment from a scene of Alexios’ book I wanted to see. We might need to get food there.”

“Not precisely what I was suggesting,” Ignis murmurs, but Gladio doesn’t hear. A bit louder, he says, “I’m sure you’ll work it out. In the meantime, no need to worry about us. Enjoy your day with Prompto.”

…

Gladio and Prompto do eat out, but they’re so energized after the convention that they decide to swing by Noctis’ apartment anyhow.

Noct acts strange the entire time, cautiously asking Prompto if he made their outfits, and keeps a pinched expression the entire time despite of Prom’s enthusiastic descriptions of how he planned their outfits and what he did to make them.

When Prompto leaves for his own home, Gladio isn’t surprised when Noctis turns on him.

In fact, he snaps at Noct before he can get a word out. “What the hell, Noct? We were having a good time, and you’re acting like a weirdo.”

“ _Gladio_ ,” Noct says, before stopping to rub at his temple like _he’s_ the problem. “Look. You can’t just accept the gifts that Prompto gives you, okay?”

“What?” Gladio says, dumbfounded. Iggy, who’s pretending to ignore them both by doing dishes, slowly stops his scrubbing. “Okay, you gotta explain yourself.”

“He doesn’t have the money for it,” Noctis enunciates, slowly, like Gladio is an idiot.

“Listen, asshole—” Gladio starts, but Noctis talks over him.

“He has to work a part-time job even with his scholarship and the money his parents send him. And he’s been putting away cash that he _needs_ to get gifts for us.”

“And you think the best solution to this,” Ignis cuts in, leaving the kitchen to join them properly, “is to refuse his gifts?”

“Yes, exactly—”

“And tell me, Your Highness, how do you think Prompto will perceive such an action?” Ignis continues. “The gifts he’s worked and planned so hard for, callously rejected?”

“I…” Noctis says, clearly stumped.

“I’d imagine doing so would only leave Prompto feel as rejected as his gift.”

Noctis chews on his bottom lip. “I don’t know what to do then. I’m already trying to pay for stuff when we go out, but he’s getting suspicious.”

“Yeah,” Gladio says, “we can all do that for him, but he is gonna catch on sooner rather than later. And from what I’ve seen, he doesn’t like it when you cover for him too much.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Noctis mutters. “Did he let you buy him dinner tonight on your _date_?”

“What?” Gladio says, “What are you talking about?”

“Your _date_ ,” Noct repeats empathetically.

Ignis chides him softly, “Noct, don’t…”

“It wasn’t a date,” Gladio protests weakly, even as he thinks that _oh shit it was kinda a date_ and _yeah, I did pay for it._

“Yeah, it was,” Noctis says, and there’s something so _petulant_ about his tone that Gladio double takes.

“What, are you _jealous?_ ” Gladio says without thinking, but Noctis flushes pink. “Oh, shit, you _are!”_

“Shut up, I am not,” Noctis sputters, “and besides, it doesn’t matter anyway, right? He already chose Gladio.”

“Noct,” Gladio says, “wait. I didn’t—I mean, I’m not going to… get in your way or anything like that, if you wanted—”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Noctis says, speaking determinedly to the ground. “Besides, he’s not into me like that. Six, for the past few weeks, I really thought he had a crush on Ignis.”

“ _Really?_ ” Ignis says suddenly, and then he coughs. The living room isn’t very well lit, but Gladio can see his own blush regardless.

“Well,” Gladio says, “shit.”

…

“Okay, so we’re agreed,” Noctis says, after much confusion, “we all want to kiss Prompto’s face.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Gladio says, arms crossed over his chest.

“What do we do now?” Noct asks, looking towards Ignis. Like he has a solution to this, of all things.

“Proceed as we were?” Ignis suggests. “It appears that Prompto has already chosen to date Gladio, so—”

“No, wait,” Gladio says, holding his hands up, “I _really_ don’t think it was supposed to be a date. It didn’t feel like a date. And, you know, _even so_ , that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t _all_ do something nice for him in return.”

“Yeah,” Noct mutters. “Gladio’s right.”

“In that case,” Ignis says. “The obvious solution would be to work together to give Prompto the best birthday. As he’s worked so hard on making our birthdays special.”

The contemplate that for a moment in silence, before Gladio says, “Oh, _duh.”_

“Oh, thank Bahamut,” Noctis says, “I have the best idea for that already.”

…

“Is this really necessary?” Prompto says, as Iggy deftly ties a blindfold over his eyes. Gladio wonders if he should worry how good at that Iggy is, but when Prompto tests it, it’s snug and not uncomfortable and he can’t see a thing.

“It’s a surprise,” Gladio says, guiding him gently into the car, ensuring he doesn’t trip or bump his head. “If you know where we’re going, it wouldn’t be as fun.”

“I… guess,” Prompto says, fidgeting around a bit in his seat as he feels for the seatbelt. Gladio leans over and does that for him. Prompto stills, makes a little ‘oh’ sound, and is quiet and warm as Gladio buckles him in.

Noctis slides into the backseat, giving Prompto a light shove. “Hey, loser. Happy birthday.”

“I feel like I’m being kidnapped,” Prompto says as the rest of them get into the car and start it.

“Kidnapped to the best birthday party _ever_ ,” Noct says.

“The surprise is part of the fun,” Ignis placates, as he guides them out of Insomnia to the open roads of Leide. “I assure you an actual kidnapping would not care so greatly for your comfort.”

“Thanks, Iggy,” Prompto says, “that makes me feel _so_ much better.” He tilts his head a bit. “Did we leave Insomnia?”

No one answers that.

“Oh, shit,” Noctis says suddenly and loudly.

Gladio twists in his seat to see what the problem is. “What’s wrong?”

“If Prompto’s wearing a blindfold, we can’t play King’s Knight!”

Gladio releases his breath as he relaxes back into his chair. “Yeah, a damn tragedy, that.”

“You could undo the blindfold?” Prompto teases, as he snickers.

“Not a chance. This is too good to ruin,” Noctis shoots back.

…

“What’s that smell?” Prompto asks, as they near Wiz’s Chocobo Ranch. No one answers.

“Are we stopping?” Prompto asks a few minutes later when they are, in fact, stopping.

Gladio helps him out, and undoes his blindfold. (The knot is _very well done_. Huh. He didn’t know that about Iggy.) It falls away, and Prompto’s befuddled face morphs into one of delight.

“CHOCOBOS!” He yells, voice going into a bit of a shriek at the end of the word. “OH—EM—GEE!”

“And… there he goes,” Gladio says to Iggy and Noct as Prompto runs off, leaving the three of them behind, to go look at the chocobos.

“Honestly, we could probably just leave him here all day, and he’d have a blast,” Ignis mutters, as they take their time catching up.

“Yeah, but it wouldn't be the best birthday party ever,” Noctis says. “Also we’d lose him to the chocobos, and I’d never see him again. Hey, Prompto, wait up!” he yells as he sprints off.

“Go on,” Ignis says as he walks away. “I’ll go speak to the proprietor.”

Gladio goes, and finds Noctis trying and failing to feed a chocobo, and Prompto missing.

“Where’s—” Gladio says, already going into security mode to analyze all the details of the scene, but Noctis just points at the chocobo.

Where Prompto is currently faceplanted into.

“Iiiiiiitssoooooooooosoooooooooooooft,” Prompto says into the feathers.

“Ow!” Noct cries, pulling his hand away from where the chocobo nipped it. “She would be if she didn’t keep trying to eat my hand while I’m trying to feed her!”

Prompto says something but it’s lost in the feathers. Gladio comes up to rub his shoulder. “Iggy will be here in a minute. He’s getting us saddles.”

“Saddles?” Prompto says, pulling away from the chocobo. “Why—” his eyes go wide. “We’re gonna ride them?”

“Nah, we came all this way just to look at them,” Noctis drawls, and Gladio reaches over to shove him.

“Be nice,” Gladio tells Noct, but Prompto doesn’t hear over the noise he’s making.

…

Their planned leisurely ride is sidetracked when Prompto decides he wants to race on the track, since it’s right there, so they have fun racing against each other for a bit. Their day trip was planned by Gladio specifically to get them to a prime location for sunset photographs of Duscae and they just make it in time. Prompto shoots at least dozens of shots of the landscape and sunset, and all of them with varying degrees of silly poses.

They have to turn back a bit before dark, unfortunately, but they make a race of it, which Noctis wins.

“Ooh, boy,” Prompto says, dismounting, legs like jelly after being on a chocobo all day. “That’s gonna hurt tomorrow.” It also hurts now, but it’ll hurt way worse tomorrow.

“Worth it,” Noctis says, bumping up against his shoulder, only to flinch away dramatically. “Oh, you _reek_.”

“So do you, buddy,” Prompto says, as he tries to grab Noctis around the neck to push his face into his sweat-stained shirt.

Noctis shrieks. “Help! This is mutiny!”

“That’s only for soldiers!” Prompto yells.

“Treason, then!”

Ignis watches them safely from the racing track’s stand, sipping some lemonade. “I think you’ve brought this upon yourself, Noctis.”

“Treason! Treason all around!” Noctis says, finally getting the upper hand and tackling Prompto to the ground where they start to just shove dirt into each other’s faces.

“At this point, you children will need to wash up before dinner,” Gladio says, also watching from a safe distance.

“No, don’t tell them that. I want first go of the caravan’s shower,” Ignis whispers sharply, but they all hear it anyway.

“Race you to the showers!” Prompto yells, abandoning his game with Noctis immediately.

However, what with Noctis and Prompto sabotaging each other the entire way, Ignis still wins that particular race.

“It’s a good thing,” Gladio says, as they make a show of moaning and groaning outside, “this way he can start making dinner while the rest of us wash up.”

“Dinner?” Prompto asks, perking up. “We’re not going straight back to Insomnia?”

“Nope,” Noctis says. “We’re spending the night here. We’ll drive back tomorrow morning.”

“You haven’t even had a birthday cake yet,” Gladio adds. “What kind of friends would we be if we went home without gorging ourselves on sugar?”

…

Dinner is amazing, and everything is a favorite Niflheimian dish of Prompto’s, from the very book he gifted him. He spares no breath in telling Ignis as much.

“Do save room for your cake,” Ignis gently advises, even though he’s a bit pink from Prompto’s barrage of compliments. And perhaps the moaning noises Prompto makes at times while he takes a bite.

But he’ll never admit to that.

Though he doesn’t have to, because Noctis eventually says, “Oh my god, Prom, you sound like you’re in a porno.”

“That’s because eating Iggy’s food is _better_ than sex,” Prompto shoots back without missing a beat.

“Then you haven’t had good sex yet,” Gladio comments.

“That an offer, big guy?” Prompto asks, with a huge grin and ridiculous eyebrow wagging.

The pause after that question lingers for a moment too long, where Gladio doesn’t respond and the smile begins to slip off Prompto’s face. “Hey, I didn’t mean to—”

“You’ve had sex?” Noctis says, a bit too loudly. Fortunately, all of the ranch staff have long left for the day, and it’s a touch too obvious a distraction, but it suffices.

“Oh, I mean,” Prompto says, laughing a bit awkwardly. “Yeah? My parents were never around, and I had no curfew, dude.”

Prompto no longer lives with his parents, and the timeline that statement suggests causes Ignis to sit up straight. “Wait, in _high school?”_ Noct asks.

“Yeah,” Prompto shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck, eyes avoiding all of them. “Look, it’s not a big deal. It was fun! I wanted a lot of attention, and I found people willing to give me that, so. You know.”

They mull this over, briefly, and Ignis wonders how many rebellions Prompto had. What with how busy and duty-bound the three of them were, they rarely have time for paramours. If Ignis is as well-informed about the others’ indiscretions as he believes he is, Prompto would be more sexually experienced than the three of them combined if had even had just a handle of liaisons. Ignis has certainly had a couple of lovers, there is at least once where Noctis vanished from a social function for a suspicious amount of time when a girl did as well…

And Gladio’s been much too committed to his duty and romantic notions for any flings.

What a peculiar thought. Incongruous, even.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Noctis asks.

“Noct,” Iggy warns, but it’s too late.

“I didn’t really want to broadcast it,” Prompto says, “everyone already thought I was a bad influence on you, and I didn’t want to prove them _right_.”

“Yeah, but,” Noctis says, biting his lip as he struggles with his words. “ _I_ told you when Primula invited me to the gardens with her during that party!” Ah. Ignis wasn’t aware of that. He hoped Noct used protection.

Though, the Lady Persici and her daughter have not visited to the Citadel for several months already. If there was an illegitimate child in the making, they would have heard news of it by now.

“Well, yeah, but Noct, these weren’t really… like that?” Prompto says. “I wasn’t secreting away into the garden to kiss a nice girl,” Ah. Alright then. Ignis doesn’t need to worry about illegitimate royal children, then. “I was just… hooking up with people at clubs. Nothing really romantic.”

“Dude,” Noctis says quietly in disbelief and maybe partly in awe.

Unwilling to let them have another awkward bout of silence, and before Noctis can ask Prompto to explain how he got into clubs while he was underaged in the first place, Ignis says, “That’s a shame. You deserve romance, Prompto. But, I believe we were celebrating your birthday, not interrogating you on your sexual endeavours. Shall we put this conversation to rest?”

“Yeah,” Prompto jumps in.

The others nod in agreement, though Noct shoots Gladio a look. When Prompto breaks away for the restroom, he whispers to him, “You better romance him right.”

“I still seriously don’t think it was supposed to be a date,” Gladio mutters back, going pink regardless. “Leave it alone, okay? We’re all just here as friends anyway.”

“Don’t hurt him,” Noctis says, a bit unnecessarily in Ignis’ opinion. One of the two has experience, after all, and it’s not Gladio.

“Oh, fuck off, Noct.”

“Guys?” Prompto asks, much closer than they could see in the dark. “Did I miss something?”

“No,” Gladio says, “Noct’s just being an asshole.”

“Noct, lay off,” Prompto says as per course.

Noctis throws Gladio another look, and Ignis sighs. “I believe it’s time for cake, if we’ve all finished with our dinners. Unless anyone wants seconds?”

“Cake time!” Prompto whoops, and that’s decided.

They sing him happy birthday, badly, and Prompto beams throughout. Prompto resumes his ongoing flattery of Ignis’ cooking skills, and they all stay up far too late.

It’s great. They’re exhausted the next day, and on the drive back, but it’s worth it.

…

The drive home takes hours, and while Noctis falls asleep instantly because the gods have blessed him or some shit like that, Prompto is wide awake.

So he’s taking pictures. Of Iggy who’s driving and never looking at the camera, so Prompto gets some good profile shots. Of Noct who’s sleeping, but Gladio helpfully poses him for their amusement. Of Gladio who grins and flexes and winks.

When he’s taken as many as he thinks his friends will tolerate, Prompto starts taking selfies, starting off trying to look cool, and quickly giving up in favor of funny faces.

After taking a shot where his tongue is out and his eyes are crossed, he hears Gladio snort quietly behind him. “Nice face.”

Prompto laughs. “Well, I’ll never be as hot as any of you guys, so might as well embrace it.”

“What?” Ignis says, glancing away from the road for a second to look at Prompto.

“Oy,” Gladio says, placing a hand on the chair to lean forward. “What’s that nonsense about?”

“Nothing,” Prompto says, shrugging away from Gladio. “I was just joking, I didn’t mean to like, make anyone uncomfortable.”

“It didn’t sound like you’re joking,” Gladio says.

To his surprise, Gladio wakes up Noctis with a couple of rough shakes.

“Oh my gods, you guys, really? This isn’t that big of a deal,” Prompto protests, cheeks burning as he flushes. Oh god, he made them really uncomfortable when he said that they were hot, didn’t he? Why did he say that? He _knew_ when Gladio froze after Prompto half-jokingly asked if Gladio was offering to show him a good time that he crossed a line. He _knew_ that.

Noctis mumbles a protest to waking, even as Prompto’s confusion compounds with horror as Ignis pulls over the car. “You don’t need to stop the car,” he says, now genuinely concerned that his friends are going to kick him out. They wouldn’t do that, right? It was just his birthday!

“No, this has gone on long enough,” Ignis says, cutting the engine. “Clearly, we all need to talk.”

“What has?” Noctis mutters from the back.

“Prompto, come here,” Ignis says, leaning forward. He takes Prompto’s hands between his own, the gloves a smooth texture against his skin. “Believe me when I say this—you’re _beautiful_. We all think so.”

Prompto’s about to laugh, but Ignis is staring at him so intently, and getting closer and closer, until he’s kissing him and his thoughts short out entirely.

When he pulls away, the nervous laughter comes out. “Oh, uh… thanks, Iggy,” he says, risking a glance at the other guys.

Gladio stands up in the back of the car, and looms over Prompto for just a moment, before cupping his hands on Prompto’s face to kiss him as well.

At this point, Prompto has no idea what’s going on.

“What?” he says, when Gladio pulls away to sit back down in his seat with a huff. He folds his arms over his chest, looking fairly defensive for a guy who grabbed Prompto’s face and kissed him.

They all look at Noctis.

“Yeah, okay,” he says, crossing over the car to—yup. Kiss Prompto. The kiss isn’t that heated or that long, and he’s too confused at this point to respond in any real way.

“Guys, what the fuck?” he asks afterwards. “I mean—what?”

“We all like you,” Noctis says. “Okay?”

Prompto stares. “What?”

“We kissed you because we wanted to,” Gladio says. “And—shit. You’re adorable.”

He can’t believe this. Prompto should have known it was too good to be true. They took him out for his birthday, and—and now what? They’re pulling this on him?

“Haha, guys,” Prompto says, slumping in his seat. “Very funny. Really had me going there. Can we keep going now?”

“What? No,” Noctis says, leaning forward from the backseat. “We’re not joking, Prom.”

“Guys, come on, this isn’t funny,” Prompto says, feeling cornered. They took him all this way just to make fun of him. Or maybe they only got the idea when they were asking him about his sex life the night before, but that would mean that this whole thing… they’re calling him easy. But that’s so cruel, and he really thought Ignis and Gladio considered him a friend, at this point.

Even if they weren’t friends, he didn’t think they would… treat him like this.

They got Noct in on it too, and that _stings_.

Gladio rests his hands on Prompto’s shoulders. “We’re really not joking. We all, just… had some realizations this past year.”

“I believe what Gladio is saying,” Ignis begins, adjusting his glasses, “is that after Gladio’s birthday, during which you attended that convention with him, we all realized that we… appreciated… you and your thoughtfulness more than friends ought to.”

“And we think you’re super cute,” Noctis interjects. “There’s that, too.”

“So, what, you all got together and decided you each want to bone me?” Prompto says. “None of you are even together!”

“Well, we’re not suggesting…” Gladio says, trailing off.

“I mean, I wasn’t really thinking of _boning_ ,” Noct mutters.

“We thought you wanted to date Gladio, and that doesn’t appear to be the case,” Ignis begins.

“What? I’m not dating Gladio,” Prompto says. The hands on his shoulders are very still.

“See, that’s what I told them,” Gladio says.

“I mean,” Prompto says, trying to not make Gladio feel bad, “I guess it could have been a date?”

“Are you even into guys?” Noctis asks. “We all thought you were into Gladio, so we just assumed…”

“Indeed. We may be jumping the gun, as it were,” Ignis comments.

“I’m into guys,” Prompto says too quickly. He takes a deep breath, and says more carefully, “And, I mean, you guys are all hot, and, uh, I’m… flattered? But this is… I don’t think you’ve all thought this through,” he finishes a bit weakly. “Sex can change a lot of things, really fast, and make it _super_ ugly.”

Silence reigns as they contemplate that, and Prompto stares out at a garula herd in the distance. “Like,” he says, “how would it work? If you’re actually serious—”

“We are,” Noctis says, “we’re not doing this to—to fuck with you, or anything.”

“Right, okay,” Prompto says, “so, do you _all_ want to date me, or do you want me to, like, pick one? Can you guys even deal with sharing? Can you deal with _not_ sharing? And, if we all dated, would you date _each other_ , or is this just like… a me thing?” Prompto wouldn’t know how to feel if it was a ‘him’ thing. “Is it something you guys want to get out of your system?” he asks a bit hoarsely. He doesn’t want to be harsh, but… if they just want to experiment, Prompto going to have to put a stop to that really quickly.

If he can, that is. His throat tightens at the thought of potentially ruining his friendships by rejecting them.

“That is very true,” Ignis says. “You’re right, Prompto. Clearly this is something that requires a lot of further discussion. To ensure everyone is on the same page.”

“And if we’re not,” Gladio says, giving his shoulders another squeeze. “You’re still going to be our friend,” and Prompto feels tension leave him. Gladio’s thumb rubs soothingly against his back, so—he felt that, then.

“Yeah,” Noctis says, “if we can’t do this and still remain friends, then I’d rather just be friends. That’s way more important to me.”

“Agreed,” Ignis says.

“Me too,” Prompto says.

“Shall we resume?” Ignis says as he starts the engine.

A bit further down the road, which they travel in ponderous quiet, Prompto clears his throat. “Uh, just to, you know, be clear—thanks, guys. For the awesome birthday. You guys are the best.”

“It’s the least we could do,” Ignis says, “for your own thoughtful approach to our birthdays.”

“Yeah,” Noct says, leaning forward to tap him on the shoulder. “You’re the best, bud.”

“Happy birthday, chocobo,” Gladio says, not even having to reach to ruffle Prompto’s hair.

Prompto squacks in protest, which makes the three of them laugh. He protests the indignation of the comparison, even if, of course, chocobos are noble and perfect creatures, he’s _not_ one, and everything slides back into normalcy.

He loves his friends. One way or another, they’ll work it out.


End file.
